


(One Time) For The Saints and The Sinners

by AciidHeart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Season/Series 04, Slow Build, Slow Build Castiel/Sam Winchester, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Toxic Dean Winchester, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27989379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AciidHeart/pseuds/AciidHeart
Summary: The sun rises on the Righteous Man, and his sins are soon to follow.The moon shines on the tainted soul, and he pleads for absolution.The angel watching over them falls from the heavens and into the twilight.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. The Sun Rises on The Righteous Man

The moment Castiel steps through the doors, he is met with anger. 

He is met with gunfire, as well as a stab wound. Inconsequential, easy to dismiss. He has a message to deliver.

It’s no surprise that Dean does not believe him- he’s always lacked faith, even when presented with an undeniable truth. That it was he who raised Dean from perdition, he who saved him from the depths of Hell. And yet he still does not believe. He does not feel he deserves to be saved, his salvation a mistake. As if God’s will was a mistake.

Castiel imparts his message. “We have work for you.”

\--/--/--

“Well, then tell me what else it _could’ve_ been.”

Sam knows that Dean doesn’t believe in what he’s been told- that he was saved by an angel. An _angel_. The mere thought of it boggles his mind. But based on what Dean’s shared, it doesn’t sound impossible. This being- Castiel, he thinks- immune to salt rounds and devil’s traps, immune to Ruby’s knife… a being that even Lilith fears.

They don’t know for sure- Dean’s sure that this Castiel character must be lying in some way, but why would he lie? If their research is accurate, the only thing that _could_ have raised Dean from Hell is an angel. Perhaps an angel that’s on their side. 

The next time Sam is alone, Ruby corners him. 

“So is it true? That an angel rescued Dean?”

“You heard?” 

“Who _hasn’t_?” Ruby is scared. Sam doesn’t blame her- angels and demons don’t exactly mix well, he supposes.

He doesn’t stop her when she leaves.

\--/--/--

The Rise of the Witnesses. 

The Apocalypse.

 _The Apocalypse_.

Sam never would’ve thought that a group of ghosts going after hunters would be a sign of the fucking _Apocalypse._

And of course it had to be ghosts that have a personal vendetta against them. People they’ve failed- people that died because of them.

He’s confronted in the hallway upstairs in Bobby’s house by Meg’s ghost- not the demon this time, just the girl she’d possessed- and it stops him short for a moment.

“How many innocent bodies has Ruby burned through just for fun? I thought you must have learned _something._ I thought I died for _something_ , and yet you haven’t sent _her_ back to Hell. You’re a _monster_.” She bites through each word with venom, and as they echo in his ears Sam fires off a salt round. He doesn’t have time to ruminate over his own sins right now. There’s work to be done.

They make it through the spell with life to spare. It’s a lucky thing; their salt ring had been blown away, and Meg had nearly gotten Bobby, but a bit of quick reflexes on Dean’s part casts a brilliant blue light in the mantle of the fireplace, and the spirits dissipate just as quickly as they’d come. Sam is a little shaken from the adrenaline, and his midsection is probably going to suffer some bruising from getting hit with a shelf, but he’s otherwise okay. After things settle down, he’s tired enough to curl up on one of Bobby’s couches and promptly passes out for the night.

\--/--/--

Sam’s not sure how much time passes before he’s woken by the sound of Dean’s voice. It’s still dark, so he figures he hadn’t been asleep for too long before waking. He waits a beat, hears Dean speak up again. 

“What the hell is he waiting for? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The fucking _apocalypse_?” He’s clearly agitated, trying to keep his voice down and failing as his frustrations rise. “At one point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?”

Sam sucks in a quiet breath, suddenly afraid of moving lest he disturb whatever it is that’s going on in… the kitchen, it sounds like. Dean’s talking to someone, he assumes, and after a moment he hears a quiet rumble, an unfamiliar voice. It’s too quiet to make out what it says, but when Dean snaps “If you say ‘mysterious ways’ so help me, I will kick your ass” a sudden thought comes to mind. Maybe he’s talking to the angel. Castiel.

“The rising of the witnesses is one of the 66 seals.” Sam hears it that time, that quiet, gravely voice. It clicks that they must be talking about the apocalypse Bobby mentioned- the end of the world. 

He doesn’t hear most of the conversation, their voices dipping lower once Dean seemingly calms down a bit, but the angel’s next words are somehow sharp and clear. 

“I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.”

Then silence. 

Sam doesn’t dare rise now, only listens to Dean’s footsteps as he cautiously lays back down on the floor, listens to the rustle of blankets as he settles. 

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice is quiet. “You awake?”

Something inside of Sam is afraid. Afraid of what, he’s not sure. He doesn’t respond.

“Well, worth a shot.”

Sam doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

\--/--/--

The next morning, Sam sees Dean jerk awake from his view in the kitchen and makes his way back to sit on the couch. He notices the thoughtful expression drawing Dean’s eyebrows down into a frown.

“You alright? Looks like you got something on your mind.”

A long pause. He looks up at Sam and seems to consider him for a moment before he answers. “You don’t… have a problem with believing in angels and God?” 

Sam doesn't even have to think about it as he tugs his shoes on. “No, not really.” He bites down the urge to remind Dean of his confession that feels like years ago, when he openly admitted to praying. To ask for guidance, for forgiveness. He doesn’t tell Dean that he wants this angel to be real more than anything else in the world.

“So that means you believe in the devil?” 

“Why are you asking me all this?” Sam questions. He notices that Dean’s expression has changed from one of deep thought to one of deep fear and concern. He says nothing, but with a sickening feeling in his gut, Sam thinks he knows.

\--/--/--

Castiel watches over Dean with a careful eye as he traverses through his parents’ past. He has no need to interfere, so he simply watches.

The determination in his eyes burns bright with fear. There is a great deal of anger in them as well, something wild and desperate as he fights uselessly against the forces of destiny, and Castiel watches Dean fail. The demon Azazel escapes, and Castiel manifests his form to place a hand on Dean’s shoulder. _Time to go back_. 

“I couldn’t stop it.” Dean stares down at hands that are curled into fists, dejected and weary. “She still made the deal. She still dies in that nursery, doesn’t she?”

“Yes. There was no avoiding it,” Castiel responds. “You couldn’t have stopped it.”

Dean frowns and looks up at Castiel. “If I couldn’t have stopped it, why did you take me there?”

“To show you the truth. Now you know what we know.” 

“So you know almost nothing, then.” 

“It is unfortunate that we know so little,” Castiel admits. “We know what Azazel did to Sam, but we don’t know _why_.” 

Dean suddenly seems to realize something. "Where's Sam?" he asks.

Castiel gestures to his side, and Dean follows the movement to the hotel bed next to them. The bed is empty, the sheets untouched. His jaw sets, and he turns to gather his belongings. "Where is he?"

Castiel gives him an address. “Your brother is heading down a dangerous road, Dean,” he warns. “So stop it, or we will.”

\--/--/--

Sam stares at the demon seated in front of him, deep into the eyes that once belonged to a human soul. The eyes aren’t always black; he’d look almost normal like this, if Sam didn’t know of the ugliness hiding just underneath.

“Where’s Lilith?”

“Go to hell,” the demon sneers. 

Sam feels a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’d watch myself if I were you.” 

“Why? Because you’re Sam Winchester? The guy who tries to call himself a hero? And yet here you are, sluttin’ around with some demon.” 

Sam can see Ruby staring the demon down out of the corner of his eye, but she says nothing.

“Real fuckin’ hero, huh?”

“ _Watch it._ ” 

“Tell me about those months without your brother… about all the things you and this demon bitch do in the dark. Tell me, _hero_.”

Sam decides he’s heard enough. He raises a hand, summons a power that has become as easy as breathing, and with a shuddering lurch the demon’s mouth opens wide and a thick, furling cloud of black smoke pours from its lips. The smoke gathers on the ground underneath the feet of its former host before it slowly sinks into the ground and then fades away entirely.

Sam looks over at Ruby. She looks pleased- proud. Proud of how strong he’s become. “How’d that feel?” 

“Good,” Sam replies. “No more headaches.”

Ruby smiles. “That’s good.”

Sam tears his attention away from her when the man in front of them stirs, then groans in discomfort. Sam kneels at his side and helps him stand on unsteady feet. He’s damn proud of himself too; he’d exorcised the demon without killing the host. He’d saved this man. 

“There something you need to tell me, Sam?”

Sam’s body goes rigid, freezes him in place. He gently detaches himself from the man using him for support and dares to look into his brother’s face. He’s calm, but Sam knows it won’t last. This is the kind of calm that betrays a deep, seething anger. The exact thing he'd wanted to avoid.

“Dean. Listen.” 

“Listen? You want me to _listen_?” Dean’s eyes flick over Sam’s shoulder. “Then you’re gonna tell me who the hell she is, and what the hell’s she doing here.”

“It’s good to see you again, Dean.” She smiles at him, but Sam can tell that she’s nervous.

“...Ruby? Is that _Ruby?_ ” Dean’s glare turns to ice, and before Sam can blink, Dean's charging forward and slams Ruby into the wall behind her, knife already in hand.

Sam springs into action and tries to wrestle the knife away from Dean, but he’s overpowered. Ruby steps in and pins Dean against the wall, hand on his throat and a cold determination in her eyes. 

She reluctantly lets him go when Sam tells her to stop, and it makes Dean smile. “Well, aren’t you an obedient little bitch?” Ruby doesn’t react, but Sam has a feeling that she wants to rip his throat out. Instead she retreats and goes back to tend to the man still with them and take him to a hospital. 

As soon as Ruby’s out the door, Dean stares him down like he’s deciding whether he should just bite the bullet and put a knife through Sam’s chest, and then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be an attempt at basically retelling the entire series starting from season 4 onward, aka this is probably going to be the Slowest of Slow Burns. Plots will be lifted kinda heavily from the show, so if any of the dialogue sounds familiar then it's probably an actual quote. 
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr @ aciid--heart!


	2. Dear God, Am I Human?

Sam knows he’s in for it the moment Dean throws the door open and storms into their hotel room. He makes a beeline for the duffel bag resting at the foot of his bed and forces it open, starts gathering the shirts he has hung up in the open closet spaces and starts stuffing them inside. 

“Dean, what are you doing? Are you- are you leaving?”

“You obviously don’t need me. You and Ruby can go fight demons.”

Sam attempts to intercept Dean’s path, holding his hands up in the hopes that he can get Dean to slow down for a moment. “Come on, man. Just- just hold on a second-”

Dean brushes right past him at first, but then seems to reconsider for a moment before whirling around and taking a swing right at Sam’s face.

“Okay, I probably deserved that,” Sam says with an exasperated sigh. “You done?” 

Dean levels his icy glare on Sam again, but instead of responding, he merely throws another punch that lands on Sam’s jaw. 

Sam stumbles a little, almost loses his balance and topples to the ground. He rubs the sore spot with a grimace. “Dean, would you please just _listen_ to me?”

“ _No!_ You’re gonna listen to me! Do you have any idea what the hell you’re doing here?” Dean points an accusatory finger in Sam’s direction. “Do you have any fucking idea how wrong it is for you to be doing this shit?” 

“I’m exorcising demons, Dean!” Sam exclaims.

“Do you have any idea how far off the reservation you’ve gone? How far from normal? How far from _human_? You’re doing shit with your fucking _mind_ _!"_

“I’m sending these demons back to Hell, and it _only_ works on demons!”

Dean stalks forward until he and Sam are mere inches away from each other, teeth bared as he attempts to shove Sam back against the wall. “What else can you do?”

“I already _told_ you!”

“And I have every reason in the world to believe that,” Dean spits out.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, okay? If you could just _try_ to see the other side here-”

“The _other side_?”

“I found a way to exorcise demons from innocent people!” 

“Use the fucking knife!”

“The knife kills the victim! What I do, most of them survive! Look, I’ve saved more people in the last five months than we save in a _year_.” Sam’s trying not to raise his voice, he really is, but Dean’s anger only serves to further stoke the frustration burning through his body.

Dean levels him with a look that’s somehow disappointment, rage, and resignation all at once. “That what Ruby wants you to think? Y’know, like how she tricked you into using your powers? You’re on a slippery fuckin’ slope, brother. Just wait and see. Cause it’s gonna get darker, and darker, and God knows where it ends.”

“I’m not gonna let it go too far,” Sam tries to assure. His voice comes out more meek than he intended, though; he’s seen this kind of anger many times before, and even as an adult there’s still a bit of fear that stabs through his gut in the face of it, has him fighting against the urge to curl in on himself and use his arms to shield himself from any incoming damage in spite of his own anger.

Dean turns away, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and quick as lightning he swipes the lamp off of the table in front of him and sends it flying into the dresser right next to it, eyes trained on the ground as it shatters and the pieces are strewn about on the floor.

Despite his best efforts, the sudden explosion of sound makes Sam flinch. Dean doesn't seem to notice, thank fuck, and only stares at the mess for a moment before he glances back up at Sam. “It’s already gone too far, Sam! If I didn’t know you, I would want to _hunt_ you. And so would other hunters.”

“You were gone.” Sam breaks their eye contact, tries to fight back the sting of oncoming tears. His face flushes hot with shame. “I was here. I had to keep on fighting without you. And what I’m doing… it _works_.”

“If it’s so terrific, why did you lie to me about it? Why did an _angel_ tell me to stop you?”

That stops Sam short. “...What?”

“Cas said that if I don’t stop you, he will. See what that means, Sam? That means that _God_ doesn’t want you doing this. So are you just gonna stand there and tell me that everything is all _good_?”

 _The angel doesn’t want you doing this._ God _doesn’t want you doing this._

_Sin. What you’re doing is sin._

_Another sin to add to the tally. Another sin that will send you deeper into Hell, when the time comes._

The blood tastes so sweet, though. It does, it truly does, but… the angel. Castiel. The thought of further proving to Heaven that he’s a monster, an abomination, nearly tips him over the edge into full-blown tears.

Before Sam can say anything else, his phone rings, and their old friend Travis, a fellow hunter, points them in the direction of a case, and Sam thanks whoever might be listening for ending the fight and allowing him to divert his attention elsewhere. An opportunity to help someone and ignore his own fucked up life for a little while.

\--/--/--

On the drive over to Carthage, Missouri, Sam attempts to break the stifling silence that’s settled over them like a blanket. He asks about their mother, about the things that Dean saw when he’d been taken back in time. Dean stares at him for a moment before answering, as if he’s deciding on whether or not he should pull over and throw a few more punches at Sam on the side of the freeway first. But he relents and answers Sam’s questions- he talks about how strong and capable their mother was, how funny and smart and _hopeful_ she’d been. 

The one thing Sam can’t understand about it all is why their whole family had to die, why they all had to fall just so the yellow-eyed demon could taint Sam with his blood. 

Dean gives him a startled look when Sam verbalizes his thoughts. “Sam, I never said anything about demon blood. You _knew_ about that?”

Sam huffs out a sigh. “Yeah. For about a year.”

“A whole _year_?”

“I should’ve told you about it. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately, Sam.” Dean huffs out a silent laugh, and it’s just as empty in humor as it is in volume. “Whatever. You don’t wanna tell me, you don’t have to. It’s fine.”

They continue their drive in complete silence.

\--/--/--

It turns out they’re scoping out a rougarou named Jack Montgomery- the man in question hasn’t turned yet, hasn’t tasted human flesh, but Dean and Travis both seem convinced that it’s only a matter of time before he’s too far gone to be saved. It takes a frantic round of research to find it, but Sam discovers that there are others who _have_ fought it off before, others who set some rules up for their diet and never turn. He has little success in convincing Dean _or_ Travis to give the man a chance before rushing in to kill him.

Dean brings it up on the drive over to the man’s house. “You sure your emotions aren’t getting in the way of this job?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam questions. He tries to play it off nonchalantly, but he has a feeling he knows exactly where Dean’s line of thinking is headed.

“Y’know. Nice dude, but he has something evil inside of him. Something in his blood. Maybe you can relate.”

Sam clenches his jaw. He’d been expecting it, he saw it coming from a mile away, but it still sets off a fuse that has his blood boiling in seconds. “Stop the car.”

“What?”

“Stop the fucking car!”

Dean’s expression closes off, and he swings the car off to the side so they can pull over and off the road. Sam throws the door open before they’re even stopped, slams it shut while just barely managing to hold back from trying to break it from its hinges. 

“You wanna know _why_ I’ve been lying to you, Dean? Because of shit like this!”

“Like _what_?”

“The way you talk to me! The way you look at me like I’m a freak!” 

Dean apparently has the gall to look surprised, of all things. “I do _not_.”

“Or even worse, like I’m a fucking idiot! Like I don’t know the difference between right and wrong!” 

“Well, _do_ you know the difference? Cause you’ve been going down a pretty dark road, lately, in case you hadn’t noticed.” 

“You have no idea what the fuck I’m going through right now, Dean,” Sam hisses. It’s a Herculean effort to stop himself from taking a few of his own swings at Dean, just to get this anger out before he explodes. “I’ve got fucking _demon blood_ in me, Dean! This- this _disease_ pumping through my veins, and I can’t ever rip it out or scrub it clean! I’m a whole new level of freak!”

Dean stays silent.

“I’m just trying to take this curse and make something _good_ out of it, okay? Because I _have_ to.” 

After a long, tense moment, Dean relents to talking to Jack first before anything else. At this point Sam’s so angry that he only sees it as a pitiful, flimsy little olive branch that his brother is trying to extend. But he knows that he won’t get anything better than that, so he throws his hands up in surrender before throwing himself back into the car.

\--/--/--

Their attempt at a conversation with Jack doesn’t go well. They decide to come back the next night and stake out his house, just in case, but they realize too late that Travis had beaten them to the punch, and when they make their way into the house they find out that Travis had been killed and Jack had already fed. He’d fed, and he'd knocked Sam unconscious and locked him in a closet, and Sam pleads and pleads for him to calm down, to make the right choice, because _it doesn’t matter what you are, it only matters what you do_ , but it’s too late. 

\--/--/--

“You did the right thing, you know,” Dean eventually says once they're back on the road. “He was a monster. There was no going back.”

Already Sam wishes Dean hadn’t opened his mouth. He stares resolutely out the window. 

“I just wanted to apologize, okay? I know I’ve been kinda hard on you lately.”

 _Is that so?_ Sam thinks bitterly to himself. But he’s too tired to fight again, so he just sighs and says, “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just that… your whole psychic thing scares the shit out of me.”

“If it’s all the same, I’d really rather not talk about it.” 

Dean, ever the stubborn asshole that he is, continues pressing. “Look, I just want to try and understand, okay?” 

“I can’t keep explaining myself to you, Dean. I can’t _make_ you understand, because this demon blood isn’t _in_ you the way it’s in me. It’s just something I gotta deal with.”

“Not alone.” 

After all the shit that he’s thrown at Sam already, that has to be the funniest fucking thing Dean’s ever said. But… “It doesn’t matter anyway. These powers are... it’s like playing with fire. I’m done with them. I’m done with everything.”

“Oh.” Dean spares a glance at him, just for a moment, before returning his attention to the road. “Well, thank you. That’s good to hear.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Sam mutters. “I’m not doing it for the angels or anyone else, either. This is _my_ choice. I’m doing it for myself.”

When Sam had realized that Jack was too far gone to be saved, he’d wanted to close his eyes when he broke free from the closet and torched Jack to death. The queasiness in his stomach had roiled at the sight and smell of burning flesh, of a man who got dealt a shitty hand in life and ended up paying a price he didn’t know he had to pay. 

But Sam kept his eyes open. He stared straight into the wild and punishing stream of flames, and he imagined himself burning with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, just a fair warning: There's going to be a heavy amount of lifting from the original dialogue and plot points, especially in these earlier chapters. I'm mainly aiming to set things up while I try to find a good place to start branching off and exploring new avenues with where I want to take this story. I'm at least hoping that it's interesting enough to see things from Sam's perspective, since you don't really get to see that very often in the show.


End file.
